


Desperation

by theblindtorpedo



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Minor Violence, Post Season 1 (Season 2 Speculation Scene), Unholy Trinity meets a Sad Fiore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 17:18:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7810540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theblindtorpedo/pseuds/theblindtorpedo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Fiore had his own personal Hell, replayed for eternity, it would be the day he lost DeBlanc. But he is not in Hell and time moves on. Whether he is prepared for it or not, there will always be a Tomorrow.</p><p>This is the day after the worst day of Fiore’s life.</p><p>(Demon/Angel AU compliant, Mumbai Sky Tower does not exist)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desperation

They hear his yell first, guttural and flooded with emotion, a terrible fusion of fury and misery. Then comes the familiar whirr of the chainsaw and Jesse, Tulip and Cassidy are up in arms as the door is torn down.

The fight is quick. Fiore has slightly above human strength and senses, along with unpredictabie desperation, his movements are erratic and frenzied, but he is nowhere near in good health for combat against three. His body aches and there are dark circles under crazed, burning eyes as he avoids a punch from Cassidy, swinging the chainsaw down upon his victim only to be promptly shot in the back of the head by Tulip. His body slumps forward into Jesse’s chest, the chainsaw clattering to the floor.

“That’s one of the English blokes innit?” Cassidy kicks at the corpse Jesse shoves to the floor. “Thought they were long gone out of our hair. Guess not. He’ll be back soon.”

“What are you talkin’-“ Tulip begins, but there is a sudden blinding flare of light and Fiore is there, towering in the doorway as a dog howls in protest at the noise they are spilling into the night.

Tulip’s eyes widen, lips part, but in a second another shot rings out from her gun, this time drilling Fiore straight between the eyes.

The next time he appears they’re calmer. Tulip is staring aback and forth at the identical bodies with a look of confusion. Cassidy’s hands are moving, in the middle of an animated explanation that is not quite coherent.

Fiore pulls out his handgun.

“STOP,” Jesse commands. “DROP THE WEAPON.”

Fiore’s body complies, traitor that it is. He gazes at Jesse, only Jesse. The man who wears the collar, yet he sits in the motel chair like a God on his throne. Blasphemy. Fiore hates him. The angel’s voice is rough, commanding, and pitifully exhausted:

“You have to give me back Genesis.”

“You know you can’t kill me,” Jesse says. It is both a statement and a question.

A long pause. Tulip’s hands on her hips. Cassidy’s head tilted curiously. Jesse staring with intensity as Fiore’s eyes widen and his mouth flaps soundlessly.

But, eventually, he does speak.

“I . . . I didn’t know what else to do.”

It is as if a crucial wall has been battered open, so much, too much comes tumbling out. All that is left are bare foundations that do not hold anything; the once strong and stable castle is weak and ineffectual. This is when Fiore collapses in on himself. The angel falls to the ground, knees hit with a thud before he sits and curls into a tight ball. His lanky legs are hugged to his chest, and he avoids eye contact with everyone in the room in favor of squeezing his lids shut as if that will somehow protect him. Small dark spots appear on his knees where his nose and eyes begin to run and he is quivering, full body shakes that threaten to dismantle his form. Cassidy puts a hand on his shoulder and it speaks volumes that he does not flinch away.

“I _don’t_ know what to do,” Fiore sobs and his suit is fully ruined now, soaked in sorrow. He wants to rip the clothes off, divest himself of reminders of when they had been two peas in a pod. The government agents. DeBlanc and Fiore. _Together_. Inseparable.

“Hey, where’s your pal?” Cassidy clucks. “Don’t think he’d like to be seein’ you all sad like this. Run along home to ah . . . Heaven, right? I’m sure he’s waitin’.”

“I don’t know where he is. He- he took a bullet to head.”

“Well, we got two pieces of evidence right here sayin’ that ain’t a problem.”

“We were in Hell.”

“Ah,” Cassidy nods solemnly. “Now, I’m gettin’ the idea that might not be quite the same.”

“I don’t know. All I know is he didn’t come back with me.”

“I remember him saying you don’t always come back in the same place,” Jesse says, “but he’s not with us. Sorry to disappoint.”

“You’re just lookin’ for some _guy_ you lost?” Tulip shakes her head in ridicule. “Get up and get goin’! I want to sleep. I’m sure you’ll find your guy if you look hard enough. But please, feel free to look _far_ away from us.”

“And dear God, stop snivellin’ yer gonna make me cry and I don’t cry easily. Not even at me own children’s funerals.”

The mood in the room, already low, plummets into the depths of a cold ocean.

“They were all in their eighties so it wasn’t that big a deal.” Cassidy shrugs.

“Death isn’t permanent for you,” Fiore offers. “You could go to them if you wanted.” His resentment overflows to bleed into the cheap wooden floor.

“When time comes I’ll be ready.” Nonchalant, Cassidy ignores all their visible disapproval and discomfort. “But seems to me you’re mighty torn up about your boyfriend here. So I’m genuinely interested, why do ya think splittin’ Jesse’s innards gonna bring him back? Could at least have tried to sing a little tune like last time.”

“Hold up!” Tulip interrupts, “How do you both know this guy?”

“He and his partner used to be in charge of the Power inside me,” Jesse explains. A sneer crinkles his nose. “They were its _custodians_.”

“Parents.”

“Excuse me?” The sneer is wiped away and Fiore can’t help but feel a pang of smugness, although he derives no pleasure from it.

“We’re Genesis’ _parents_. It ran away to be with you and I just thought . . . I just thought that if it came home . . . together we could somehow get DeBlanc back.”

“Bit of shite plan, to be quite honest,” Cassidy adds.

Jesse ignores him to lean forward out of his seat, locking eyes with Fiore.

“Now listen. I’m not goin’ to give Genesis back."

Fiore inhales forcefully, about to protest, but Jesse raises his hand, silencing him without the Word.

“But I can’t think of any other way you could find the one you’re looking for. Dying in Hell seems pretty permanent to me. But I know what love and family is. I know what that loss can feel like. And I know that the only certainty in this world is God, so your partner may still be out there, somewhere. So I’ll give you an option: come with us and maybe when we meet God we can work something out. Force his hand a little.”

“W-WHAT?!”

“Take it or leave it. Or I can make you do either, although I’m not sure which I’d like at the moment. You’re mighty annoying, but an angel might come in handy in the future.”

“Well, it sure did in the past,” Cassidy quips, then giggles at his own joke. Tulip rolls her eyes.

“Look,” she says to Fiore. “Doesn’t seem like Jesse’s giving you too many other options. If you don’t mope up the place and do your share of the work, I guess I don’t mind you tagging along.”

“The work?”

“Cleaning up corpses, the usual.”

“You can start with your own.”

 

The other three buy a new hotel room with the bounty of the multiple Fiores' wallets, one without bugs and actual small shampoo bottles in the bathroom. Fiore stays in the old motel room, hacking, packing body parts into disposable bags, and scrubbing out the remaining blood before disposing of the crime. Done with his task, seven am the clock read, he lays on his back on one of the twin beds. He dares not look around; he can't face being alone in a motel room. It isn’t right.

The sun rises, but Fiore does noti notice, stuck in a haunting half sleep. What eventually rouses him is the sound of a honk and then a severe thud as something hits the windowpane near his head. Fiore rubs burning eyes, stafes across the room through the decimated door to see Tulip waving impatiently at him from the window of the car, figures of Jesse and Cassidy seated next to her.

Fiore says a prayer and walks into the blinding sun and slides into an open car. No traveller’s bag, he has only the clothes on his back, a wallet, a gun and a turquoise bolo tie clutched in his fist. The stone burns his skin, hot as the memory of a demon’s kisses.


End file.
